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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282482">gift</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyPrepared/pseuds/CrazyPrepared'>CrazyPrepared</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>have yourself a merry little christmas [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Trolls (Movies 2016 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BRANCH IS HAPPY AND LOVED OKAY THATS ALL THAT MATTERS, Fluff, Gen, Gift Exchange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:55:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyPrepared/pseuds/CrazyPrepared</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's just a little something from all of us."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Branch/Happiness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>have yourself a merry little christmas [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2053290</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Grandma wasn't even gone a year when Branch lost his Hug-Time bracelet.</p>
<p>In the panicked rush through the dark dirt tunnels, with a hundred trolls ahead of him and a hundred more trolls at his heels, all so much faster than him, all so much <em>bigger</em> than him, it was too easy to stumble, to trip and fall into the cold, wet mud under his feet.</p>
<p>When he tried to scramble back up (because even at four years old, he knew if he didn't run, no one would come back for him, he knew if he didn't run, he would get left behind, he knew he had no one left to even realize he was gone) his wrist held him back, his wrist pulled him to a sharp stop, and even at four years old, he knew it was his life or his bracelet, and even at four years old, he knew what he had to do.</p>
<p>He flicked the latch and he left the thin blue band far behind, in the mud and muck and mire, and he rushed on, deeper and deeper into the dark tunnel.</p>
<p>It was the last piece of his grandma that he had left. It was the last piece of his <em>parents</em> he had left, woven—as all Hug-Time bracelets were—with the soft, colorful hair of every troll in the family.</p>
<p>And he <em>threw it away</em>.</p>
<p>Like it meant <em>nothing</em>.</p>
<p>He felt so naked, so <em>wrong</em>, without it, staring down at his bony grey child-wrist, bare skin where a bracelet should be, and he dropped his head down in his hands, tiny fingers fisting and tangling in his own rough black hair, and he cried so hard he couldn't breathe, because he threw it away, and how could he do that, how could he be so careless, how could he be so stupid, how could he have ever looked at the <em>only</em> <em>thing</em> left in this world that Grandma had given him, that Mom and Dad had given him, and <em>thrown it away</em>?</p>
<p>It's too late to be sorry about it—there's no <em>point</em> in being sorry about it, because being sorry about it isn't going to get it back—but it was the last piece of his family he had left, and he's <em>so</em> <em>sorry</em> he lost it.</p>
<p>He thinks about that bracelet a lot around this time of year.</p>
<p>When the chime rings out all over town, loud and bright as a bell through the dark, snow-dusted streets, carried on the wind into the small, warm pods swinging lightly back and forth in their trees, he stands on the edge of the village, on the edge of everything (on the edge of the whole world) and he stares out at the glittering golden lights, at the tree, at the candy-red ribbons and shiny green bows, at everyone safe at home with their family, and he thinks about the thin blue band left behind in the mud and muck and mire of the dark tunnel, long gone now, washed away with all the rain and snow of the twenty years since.</p>
<p>He looks down at his wrist, bare blue skin where a bracelet should be, and his chest <em>aches</em>.</p>
<p>But it's too late to be sorry.</p>
<p>Being sorry isn't going to get it back.</p>
<p>That's where he is, on the night before Christmas—on the edge of town, on the edge of everything, on the edge of the whole world, staring out at the lights, at the tree, at the ribbons and bows—and it takes him too long to push himself on, down into the village and up into Poppy's warm pod, swinging lightly back and forth in its tree.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The night has come to a quiet close, and the Pack is spread all around the room—Satin, Chenille, and Smidge are on the sofa with him, while Cooper and DJ Suki sprawl on the floor, with Guy Diamond and Biggie settled cozily in bright purple armchairs with blankets and cups of cocoa—when Poppy hands Branch a box wrapped in bright red paper.</p>
<p>The whole Pack looks around at him.</p>
<p>"Um," Branch takes it from her. It's small enough that he can hold it easily in his palm. "What is this? We already gave each other our gifts." He's <em>almost</em> certain that it's no different than it was twenty years back, but— "We're not doing a—a second round, or something, right?"</p>
<p>Poppy laughs. "No! No, no, don't worry, my man, this is just—uh—" she bites her lip and glances around at her friends, who are slowly edging nearer to the sofa, "—this is—"</p>
<p>"Special!" Satin tosses him jazz hands.</p>
<p>"An extra!" Smidge reaches up to punch him on the shoulder.</p>
<p>"A little something from all of us," Biggie beams.</p>
<p>"A sandwich," DJ Suki says.</p>
<p>"No, it's a glowbug," Guy jumps in with a bright grin.</p>
<p>"It's a paper crown," Chenille smirks.</p>
<p>That last one startles a small laugh out of his mouth, and he finally peels off the paper to find a simple white box inside—he thinks it just might be the plainest thing he's ever seen from the Snack Pack.</p>
<p>He pulls off the lid.</p>
<p>It's a bracelet.</p>
<p>It's a Hug-Time bracelet.</p>
<p>He can count all the colors braided into it at a glance—light purple and blue-green and off-white and sparkling silver and deep orange and bright pink, and it's—</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>.</p>
<p>It's the Pack's hair.</p>
<p>Branch drops the box.</p>
<p>He doesn't mean to—it's just that his hands are shaking and his breath is coming too fast, sharp and shallow, and he scrambles off the sofa and goes down to his knees to pick it back up again, but it takes his trembling fingers too long to finally close around the box, and he opens his mouth, and he doesn't know what he's going to say, but it doesn't matter because all that will come out is a soft, strangled noise.</p>
<p>And, all of a sudden, out of the blue, a swell of hot tears burns his eyes and spills down his face.</p>
<p>Everybody jumps up like they're on fire.</p>
<p>"Oh, my god!" Smidge says.</p>
<p>"Oh, no, no!" Poppy shakes her head wildly side to side. "Oh, no, Branch, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, it's okay, it's fine, just forget it—"</p>
<p>"—not a big deal, Branch, not a big deal at all—"</p>
<p>"—don't gotta keep it, don't feel like you gotta keep it—"</p>
<p>Branch doesn't know he's going to stand up until he's on his feet with the box still clutched in his hand and the tears still pouring down his cheeks, damp sticky trails all down his face.</p>
<p>He doesn't know he's going to hug them until he does, until he's thrown his arms open, until he's half-buried in the heap, and he's still there when the familiar chime rings out, loud and bright as a bell, from the bands on everybody else's wrists and the box in his hands.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this isnt good but consider: Branch is happy and loved. thanks for coming to my TED talk ✌ also we all know from the very first scene in the movie that he would not actually have gotten left behind in the tunnels ("NO TROLL LEFT BEHIND!!!!!") but ptsd is a whiny little bitch that tells ya otherwise and Branch has ptsd and i gotta be true to his character.       </p>
<p>just one more fic left!!! going to be posted tomorrow!! thanks so much for sticking with this series, guys 💚</p></blockquote></div></div>
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